


How to Take Care of Your Sleepy Birb Boyfriend

by Storyqueen4444



Category: RWBY
Genre: Birb Qrow, M/M, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11094399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storyqueen4444/pseuds/Storyqueen4444
Summary: The routine after Qrow came home from a job usually went like this: slip in through the window, eat, cuddle with the world's best boyfriend, and sleep. Nice and simple.This time it isn't so simple.





	How to Take Care of Your Sleepy Birb Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AniPendragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniPendragon/gifts).



> This was something I wrote for AniPendragon awhile ago that I kept forgetting to post. Hope you enjoy the birb cuddles, and thanks for reading! :D

Qrow was tired; so tired, that even his crow form was barely holding it together while he flew.

 

His last mission had taken him to the northernmost region of Atlas. A village had needed a very old, very pesky Ursa Major taken care of—and holy shit had that thing been brutal to take down, especially on Qrow’s poor, aging body. Two weeks of tracking the Grimm up a very steep mountain with very little sleep sucked. Especially when half of that time had been spent hiding in a tent praying he didn’t get frostbite while a blizzard raged outside.

 

It all ended in a battle from which Qrow did not escape unscathed. Broken arm, a mess of internal bleeding, and at some point after the fucker had finally been decapitated Qrow had found only one of the two teeth he’d lost and shoved it back in, prehistoric dentist style—which was _painful as fuck_. Thankfully Qrow’s aura had been strong enough to heal most of the damage…after a few more days spent resting up on a cold cave floor. And with nothing but aura-strengthening rations to keep him sustained and fed.

 

Sure as hell didn’t stop his wing from aching where the arm bone had broken, though. Or keep the blood that had still caked his clothes and skin carrying over to his poor feathers.

 

But tonight there would be no more patched tents, or sleeping bags with holes in them; no more icy floors or hard stone to wreak havoc on his back. Tonight he would be sleeping on a warm, comfy, hopefully not-empty bed. Qrow fluttered his wings eagerly at the thought. Honestly, before his relationship with James and their very nice, very plush mattress, Qrow didn’t know how he ever fell asleep on anything less than silk sheets. Then again, maybe it was the man in the bed with him that made it so comfortable.

 

He certainly knew that nearly a month away from James’ strong, warm arms was far too long. Hell, one _night_ without the Atlesian general to hold him was too much. Qrow had missed the man desperately, and almost everything he’d come across on his mission had been nothing more of reminder of his boyfriend’s absence.

 

Oh, all this snow freezing the snot in his nose? Very similar to when he had gotten a cold after managing to pull James away from his busy work so they could have a snowball fight. Every phone conversation to the man (whenever he remembered to call, that is)? Wonderful—up until the point where he hung up, losing the sound of James’ deep, comforting baritone. The tiny little fires that hardly managed to keep him warm? What better way to remind Qrow of how his lover _wasn’t there to do the job instead_?

 

It was the worst form of torture Qrow had ever experienced.

 

Fortunately Qrow was almost home, almost back in James’ sweet embrace. The flight home had been a lot faster than the one up the mountain, and Qrow couldn’t be more thankful if all the Grimm in the world had suddenly gone belly up and left Qrow gratefully out of a job. He had already passed the border into Atlas hours ago, and James’ home was only a few blocks away.

 

When it was finally in sight, the crow gave a cackle of delight and beat his wings harder. He completely bypassed the front of the place, wanting to get to a bed as soon as possible, so overeager that he didn’t even notice how no lights were on inside the house. It probably didn’t help that he may have been in bird form a little too long, making him feel a little less observant. Less…human.

 

He settled down on the windowsill inside, tapping on the glass with his beak before leaping back and waiting excitedly. After a few more impatient moments, he tried again, figuring James just hadn’t heard the first time. When that proved fruitless, Qrow decided, _hey, maybe he’s in another room_ and tried a different window. Then another, and another—hell, he even tried ringing the doorbell frantically before returning to the bedroom window and hitting the glass until the skin around his beak was sore.

 

This didn’t make sense; James would have left the window open if he’d left, just in case Qrow had come home early. And he’d never just ignore Qrow like this, even if he was asleep. Why in the world would James—?

 

Unless it wasn’t James who’d closed it. The last time Qrow had talked to his lover, hadn’t James said the Schnee woman was coming over? Something about needing a place to crash before her mission next week (so today), not having a place of her own yet (Qrow vaguely remembered his surprise, wondering why daddy-dearest just hadn’t waved his hand and bought the Ice Queen her own island or something).

 

Qrow recalled from the times both he and the Specialist had been over, remembered her rather obsessive need to keep everything clean during her stay. Qrow didn’t know what amazed him more: the fact that Winer had some obvious daddy issues that made him just hate papa Schnee even more, or that she was willing to get on her knees and scrub toilets.

 

He wouldn’t be surprised if Ice Queen had closed the window before she’d left, believing it to be a favor toward James. Qrow suspected he was the only positive father-figure in her life. And she wasn’t exactly aware of the whole crow-Qrow thing.

 

Qrow realized he was repeatedly making a distressed sound, wings flapping worriedly against the glass. He would have cursed himself if he’d been able to, but Raven had been the one to teach herself how to speak human words as a bird, not him—mostly for lack of trying (and watching her cuss people out as a bird was just too damn funny).

 

But this was no time for giving into instincts, not when he was cold, tired, hungry, and _outside_ worse of all. The last time he’d lost himself without someone to keep an eye on him, he and the team had been fresh out of Beacon. The team had needed Raven to come after him, and _that_ certainly hadn’t been pretty.

 

The urge to just fly away was strong, but Qrow dug his claws into the brick wall in defiance. It would be ok, _he_ would be ok; he just had to stay here until James came home. Which would hopefully be soon— _had_ to be soon. He stalked forward until he was huddled against the freezing glass, safe from the falling snow beneath the head of the window frame.

 

His eyes grew droopy as he stared longingly at the inside of the warm room. Everything would be fine, he kept telling himself. He just needed to wait for his mate—no, his boyfriend, his _James_. Qrow shook his head, trying to stay awake so he wouldn’t get worse.

 

 He just needed to wait…

 

*~*~*

 

Light against his eyelids—Qrow croaked in the back of his throat, annoyed, hid his head under his wing.

 

He was shivering, cold down to the roots of his feathers, making him confused. If the sun was out, why was he cold? Qrow shifted, tired, so tired, so hungry…

 

The cold glass was gone, going up, pulling the feathers where he’d been lying against it—a human voice, a human hand, _bad, bad, not good danger_ —

 

“Qrow?”

 

He paused, wings spread for takeoff, the human hand ( _warm, oh so warm against cold feathers_ ) at his breast, holding not hurting. Qrow knew that voice, loved it, _cherished_ it. Head turning, looking up. Eyes like sky, voice like melted chocolate, scent like shiny metal. He recognized this man— _his_ man, his mate, his _James_.

 

“Hey, hey,” James was saying calmly, other hand ( _shiny metal, cold but welcome, so shiny_ ) comes up, soothes his feathers, making him feel happy and loved and so _warm_ on the inside. “Come on now, none of that.”

 

Qrow leans into touch, crooning, basking in his mate’s love and care. James pulls him into the light, into the _heat_ , and Qrow gives a little sound of approval, burying his head into the human hand. He’s tired, so very tired, and just wants to sleep in his mate’s warmth and love and never come back out, but there’s his mate’s voice again, keeping him from slipping back into clouds and dreams.

 

“Are you hungry?” he was asking, thumb running down the feathers of Qrow’s back. There’s a distant part in Qrow’s mind that tells him tap his beak once against the shiny arm rather than just shrug, humans didn’t understand that “shrug” means “yes” to crows.

 

There was more sound from his mate, more relaxing rumble that just made Qrow want to shower James with bug-food and shiny things, and then there were sunflower seeds right under his beak for Qrow to dig into. The Corvus croaks his approval with each dive of his head into the bowl, still allowing himself to be held by James. It doesn’t take long for his tiny belly to be full, for him to feel sated and content and longing to go back to sleep.

 

But it seemed the moment Qrow closes his eyes he’s being forced to open them again, warm water filtering down his feathers, washing blood and grime and Grimm dust down the drain. Qrow caws out his displeasure, but James ignores him, shiny thumb brushing the harder gross stuff out of his plumage. Then there’s fluffy fabric, drying and rubbing, but not rough so only loose feathers fall. Then he’s being carried, each stride making a loud thump against wood, and then there’s lots of blue cloth all around, like a big ocean, only warm instead of cold.

 

James is gone though, so Qrow calls out for him, worried confused _frightened_. Where is he? Where did he go? Then his mate’s quiet voice is there, shushing his cries and comforting him with gentle hands and fingers, holding him close to his half-shiny chest but not tight. There’s a click, and all the lights are suddenly gone, leaving all Qrow’s senses to nothing but sound and feeling.

 

Qrow feels so warm, so happy and loved as he shut his eyes. He hears his mate’s strong, steady heartbeat, so much slower than Qrow’s tiny hummingbird-fast one.

 

Its thundering is the last thing Qrow hears before finally slipping back down to sleep…

 

*~*~*

 

Qrow snuffled against his pillow, frowning dazedly at the movement that had woken him up.

 

When his pillow stiffened, Qrow pouted and pulled it closer to him. “Shhh, hush, love,” the voice of his mate—no, James, he had to remind himself—was saying quietly. A hand came up to brush through his hair, and Qrow could tell it was the prosthetic; too cold to be the other one. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

Qrow just nodded his head once, too exhausted to do otherwise. There was another few moments of peaceful silence, Qrow slipping back into a comfortable daze. Then, “Qrow, I…I sort of need to get up.” Qrow whined, clutching James closer. “I know, Qrow, I know. But I do have an academy to run, you know.”

 

Admitting defeat, Qrow huffed and released his general, feeling cold as James took away all the warmth. Then a pillow was placed under his head, a blanket thrown over him, hands tucking him in, and a pair of lips grazing his forehead. “I’ll be back this afternoon, love,” James assured him. “And then we’ll have all the time in the world.”

 

Qrow could hear the smile in his soft voice, and couldn’t resist giving a sleepy smile of his own.

 

It was good to be home.


End file.
